finger tap


Work was always getting in the way of his time with Lestrade. There would be times when he would have to go several days, sometimes even multiple weeks without seeing him in person, feeling his lips against his own, or even just a touch of his hand as they sat beside each other. Mycroft exhaled deeply, tapping his fingers against his knee as he waited for the American ambassador to arrive at the British embassy. He was stuck overseas dealing with tedious politicians while Greg was back in London, dealing with… well, their usual life.

And the DI missed him just as much.

Every night, right on cue, Mycroft would instant message him as soon as he got back to the room. Of course, he could afford an international phone plan, but Greg couldn’t, and insisted that Mycroft not get one for the both of them. Reluctantly, the man agreed and settled for nightly chats on his laptop.

MH: I do apologize for this extended stay in the States. It is ever so tedious, Gregory.

The notification on his phone’s app lit up and Greg beamed as he saw who it was from. Of course it was nearly 3AM in London, but it was worth it to talk to Mycroft Holmes. He quickly tapped out his reply, yawning as he did so.

It’s taking too long. I haven’t seen you in forever, Myc. When will you be home? And just what am I supposed to do with all this delicious food I made while you were gone? -GL

A small smile appeared on Mycroft’s lips as he saw the response, and the smile grew as he realized just how instant that reply had been. Conclusion: Greg had been waiting up for his reply. It warmed the Iceman’s heart to know that someone wanted to talk to him as much as Lestrade did.

MH: That depends on what you made, my dear. Anyway, how is London faring without me? Sherlock hasn’t decimated it yet, has he?

The entire city is falling into ruins as we speak, Mycroft. I don’t think England will last much longer without you here to save it. ;) -GL

MH: Although your attempt at trying to make me worry more about you is working, please refrain from using those dastardly emoticons, Gregory. We are not teenagers with a crush on one another.

Speak for yourself. :P -GL

MH: Gregory for goodness sake. Just picture me sighing, absolutely exasperated and wondering why on earth I put up with you.

As Mycroft’s pale fingers dashed out his latest reply, he couldn’t help the feeling of joy he felt at being able to just talk to someone as easily as he could with this man. It was utterly ridiculous sometimes, but he absolutely adored that about him.

Greg meanwhile, scratched his head, rubbing his eyes. His smile was a sleepy one, but it was there nonetheless. Before he could reply to that, Mycroft sent another message, berating him for still being awake.

MH: It is nearly half 3, Gregory. Why on earth are you awake?

I couldn’t go to bed until I talked to you. It’s kind of become part of my routine. Obviously, it would be better if you were actually here, so I could hug you. -GL

And… other things. -GL

MH: Other things? Care to elaborate?

Greg swallowed harshly, having just said that as a flirtatious joke. Now he was worried he may have said something wrong. With Mycroft, sometimes it was hard to tell. Luckily, he found an innocent response.

You know, what we usually do. Cuddling, making out on the couch instead of paying attention to the movie playing in the background. Staring at each other and enjoying every second. I wish I could do all of this to you. Guess I’ll just have to settle for eating this steak dinner, alone. -GL

MH: You can make me feel guilty all you want, Gregory, but I cannot simply fly home until this policy is cleared. Trust me, you’ve no idea just how much I would rather lie next to you and hold you than deal with the tedium of this place. And, dare I say it, your insufferable insistence on tickling me, as you say, “for science.” It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, and you do not make a single application of the scientific method throughout.

Greg actually had to set his phone down from laughing so hard at that response, but he finally managed to recover and chuckled the whole time he replied to the message.

Thanks for the laugh, and the criticism. I shall ensure an entire experiment as soon as we see each other again. ;) -GL

MH: …..

MH: Gregory, you are absolutely insufferable.

;) -GL

;D – GL

MH: Gregory Lestrade, stop this now.

Then open your damn door, Mycroft Holmes. -GL

MH: What? Gregory, what are you saying? You’re not really, oh my God–

Before Mycroft could investigate further via the messenger, a knock reverberated throughout the room. He finished up his last message and glanced up. His gaze fell on the door and he rushed to it, tugging it open. There stood his Detective Inspector. His mouth fell open, right on cue because he threw his arms around the other man’s waist and dragged him inside, the kiss full of need and passion for the other.

“What the hell are you doing here? How long have you been here?” Mycroft asked as Greg pulled away to breathe. Mycroft was stunned that Greg had actually managed to surprise him.

“I missed you, and I wanted to see you.” Greg said nonchalantly as he sat down on the bed. “Plus, it was worth the trouble of getting an overnight flight on Tuesday just to get here in time to see that look of surprise on your face; it is adorable. I was overdue for a vacation anyway.”

Mycroft shook his head. Greg had managed to keep it a secret for three days? “You continuously manage to surprise me, Detective Inspector.” Mycroft also moved over to the bed, sitting down beside him, his fingers lacing with Greg’s.

“Good thing too, because I have an experiment to perform.” Greg smirked at Mycroft, who immediately tried to shift away. The Inspector tightened his grip on his hand, quickly throwing his weight on top of Mycroft to pin him down on the bed. In a moment, Mycroft was trapped and at Greg’s mercy. The DI raised his eyebrows, shifting slightly as he peered down at his boyfriend. He lightly ran a hand against Mycroft’s sides, already tickling him. But then he stopped abruptly.

“Right then…” Greg began. “For science, properly this time.”

Later, when Mycroft and Greg were getting ready to sleep in the same bed together for the first time, in a bed that absolutely was not familiar to either of them, Mycroft had trouble sleeping. So, he did what he always did when he couldn’t sleep, he talked to his boyfriend. In person, it was a hundred times better than text or a phone call would ever be.

“So, that steak dinner you told me about. Did you actually make it? Because I am quite jealous that I missed out on that one if so.”

Greg laughed and scooted closer to his boyfriend. “I didn’t make it. Had it ordered to the room.” He winked.

Mycroft’s eyes widened. “I thought I smelled a seared steak wafting through the door earlier. Wait – you’re saying you have been next door all this time? How on earth did you manage to go unspotted?”

“Because I know what you’re like, Mycroft Holmes. Based on when you message me, I know exactly what to expect.” Greg moved in to snatch a quick kiss, but Mycroft scoffed and put a finger against the other man’s lips.

“I don’t think you do, Detective Inspector.” Because then Mycroft was on top of Greg, smashing his lips against Greg’s.

In the middle of the night, when Mycroft was snoring softly next to him – god, that was so adorable, thought Greg – Lestrade grabbed up his phone and read through the messages of the day, realizing just how well his plan had worked. And when he noted that he’d missed a message just as Mycroft had thrown open the door, he beamed. He sent a quick glance over at the other man and then leaned over and planted a soft kiss against Mycroft’s forehead.

It was a simple message, but it meant more to Greg than nearly anything they had ever exchanged. After all, times like these were all about the little things.

Greg set his phone aside, the dull glow still showing on the nightstand, and the message still on the screen. He rolled over, curling up close to the man beside him before falling asleep.

On the screen was nothing more than this:

MH: :)

Tags below the cut! 

Keep reading

Every Life has a Moment ~ Olicity Fic

So this was written out of pure enjoyment. I have a prompt I need to finish but I’ve just been blocked. This I wrote for me and because I want to feel inspired to continuing writing. Thank you for everyone’s endless support I appreciate it more than I can possibly convey! 

P.S. I will be adding an additional chapter… If you want me too…

Every Life has a Moment

Every life has a moment… No everyone’s life has a key moment? Or should it be every person will experience a key moment?” 

Felicity dragged the graphite tip along the crinkled mass of paper beneath her tapping fingers then hovered over the illusive first line. She cocked her confused head while the curled brown tendrils fell freely over her bare left shoulder. The camisole strap slipped down the angled slope of her scapula when she moved the pencil back down to the second paragraph. “No…” she muttered lightly between clenched teeth, “It should stay here but then I would lose this line and then the bottom half won’t make any sense!” 

The indent in her furrowed brow grew as she sighed, “I’m never going to get this right…” 

The chuckle from the headboard of her cramped on leg room bed made her nearly snap the pencil in two. “No you’re never going to get to the point where you feel its perfect is what you should be muttering.” 

Felicity ran her nervous fingers through her maddening hair while growling, “This coming from the professional slacker…”  

Her best friend smirked, “I’m not the one who’s going to be bald by morning now am I?” 

Felicity’s fingers froze near the nape of her neck; she tapped along the taut skin before sighing in defeat, “Why can’t you just come with me? You know be my moral support while a crowd of eager minds laps up every stupid word I can hopefully deliver?” 

Those devious blue eyes slanted into two nearly invisible silts. The small worry lines near those fairly perfect lashes fluttered easily over the sharp contours of her favorite slacker’s cheek bones. Felicity crossed her legs at the ankles then flashed her sometimes roommate a dazzling grin. Her counterpart in turn huffed, “Felicity I’m not going to sit in a crowd filled with well wishers while you stand on a stage and nervously sweat.” 

Keep reading

music stim things:

• bouncin on ur toes bc u cant dance but u Also cant Not Dance

• systematic tapping ur fingers and hands like ur really the song mixer and this is a launchpad video

• my Hands…………………. The Conductor

• i wasnt thinking the right thought at the right time when the song did the thing now i gotta start it all over

• my tongue got tired from secretly singing along Inside My Mouth

• im so full of emotions now??? just from hearing this one really good note??? my chest feels like really happy balloon now AaaaAAAAAA???

• when u got ur headphones in and it hits the Good Frequency™ and everything is just Fantastic

Light (Jughead x Reader Imagine)

Request by @ateliefloresdaprimavera

Jughead had been typing away on his laptop for hours now. What had started as a quiet night in watching Netflix and eating popcorn had turned into you watching Netflix and eating popcorn alone whilst Jughead’s long fingers tapped away at the keys because, as he so eloquently put it, ‘when inspiration hits, you feed it’.

Keep reading

i feel like liveshow dan is the most authentic. unscripted, unplanned, no danisnotonfire persona. you see the light in his eye when he rambles onto his favorite topics or the tone of annoyance when someone says something in the chat that he might think is ridiculous. you see things about him that if he were recording a video, he might edit out. the humming and finger tapping, his resting face. i think its really cool to watch dan in his natural state, the one that phil sees all the time, the one that phil is actually friends with.

a sip from the grail (m.)

Summary: Your usual feeding session with Jungkook takes a new, promising turn. (Vampire!Jungkook)

Genre: Smut, Romance, Drabble, Supernatural

Rating: 18+ (smut) (language, dry humping, blood drinking)

Length: 3.1k

Sweeter than Sweet Masterlist (series)

A/N: Prepare to switch lanes.

Originally posted by tahyns

“Noona, hurry up.”

You look up at Jungkook from over your jajangmyeon, eyebrow raised, before pointedly picking up slices of vegetables one by one with your chopsticks and lifting them ever so slowly to your mouth. On the other side of the table, Jungkook scowls, his fingers tapping impatiently. He’s fidgeting so hard that his leg is vibrating under the table, causing the water in your glass to slide dangerously close to the edge.


“Y/N,” he throws back before your eyes narrow. “Y/N-noona.”

“Would you be patient for once in your life and let me eat?”

“But I’m starving,” he whines, bending over and resting his chin on the table.

“Me fucking too, Jungkook,” you snap, whipping a broccoli floret into your mouth and glaring at him. “It’s been eight hours since I actually ate something more substantial than a granola bar, and I had two presentations this afternoon. What exactly have you done today? Apart from drinking all of Jimin’s bubble tea and playing Mario Cart with Taetae and Seokjin-sunbae.”

He turns his cheek flat on the table top, heaving a huge sigh and grumbling into the table top.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll feed you as soon as I’m finished, but unless you want me to pass out from anemia while you do it you’re just going to have to wait ten minutes, Kookie,” you huff, stirring the noodles again to spread the sauce. “Besides, my blood probably tastes like shit right now, with how little I’ve eaten today.”

Keep reading

What is MADD?

• What Maladaptive Daydreaming is not:

- Hallucinations.

- A voluntary thing that’s easy to get it over with.

- Laziness.

- Dreaming while sleeping. (daydreaming not dreaming.)

- Delusions.

- something that everyone has. (aka Normal Daydreaming™)

• What Maladaptive Daydreaming actually means:

- Constant daydreaming for hours until it interferes your life involuntarily (even though it can start as a voluntary thing)

- having a lot of difficulty in fulfilling simply daily tasks (like eating, showering, sleeping) because of the urge of daydreaming.

- do facial expressions, body movement, muttering and/or whispering, legs shaking, finger tapping, walking and/or running around the area as you get too involved in your daydreams. (Which happens so frequently, especially in public, so we usually try to hide it and fail).

- being self aware of the fact that your daydreams are JUST daydreams, not reality.

- something very hard to get out of. (but most of the time we don’t want it to dissapear).

(feel free to add more!)

Corre (Part 3)

Summary: It was meant to be a one night thing, friends resolving the tension between them. But it turned into so much more.

Word Count: 675

Warnings: Smut, light.

“Corre” Masterlist

A/N: This is as far as I can get with smut, I think.

Bucky was too close to you for comfort, yet you didn’t want him to move away.. He was absolutely gorgeous up close and all you wanted was to press your mouth to his, taste him and have him hold you in your arms. It took all of your willpower to pull away and shake your head.

“You’re kidding me,” you scoffed out.

Keep reading

headcanon that naruto used to have nightmares bcs hOLY SH I T  I ALMOST LOST HIM FUCKFUCKUFH U K and when he gets like that he likes to lie with his ear over sasuke’s heart; listening to his heartbeat to remind himself he’s alive alive alive alive - a finger tapping unconsciously to count the thought until he falls asleep.

i ADORE newtina ok

pvtdoughnuthole  asked:

Valentines day date? Yuri X Viktor

“How many years is this, now,” Yuuri teases, as Victor sits across from him in a restaurant. 

“Hmm?” Victor asks, looking up from his meal. 

“How many Valentine’s Days have we spent together?” Yuuri clarifies. 

“Only a couple more than the years we’ve been married,” Victor smiles. They both know how long that’s been: it’ll be 15 years later this year. 

“Hmm, really?” Yuuri asks, tapping his finger against his lips - a habit he’s picked up from Victor. “Because I specifically remember a couple years that we were both away at a competition or another, or on a business trip where we missed it.”

Victor frowns and thinks for a second. Perhaps there were. “But we always made up for them,” Victor nods. 

“We did,” Yuuri grins, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight between them. If anything, Yuuri looks more gorgeous than when they first met. There’s a few streaks of silver in his hair to match Victor’s, and he’s got crinkles at the corner of his eyes and lines at the edges of his mouth where he’s been laughing too much over the years. Victor’s proud of those. 

“So it’s probably been right around 15 valentine’s we’ve spent together, then,” Victor says. Probably less. Which seems a shame because any chances he’s missed to dote on Yuuri seems like a waste. Even after all this time, there is no one else Victor would rather be sitting with. Whether it’s Valentine’s Day, some rainy day in April, or snowy day in December, it doesn’t matter. 

“You’ve got that look,” Yuuri teases, smiling, eyes crinkling at the corners, just the way Victor loves. 

“What look?” Victor asks, even though he knows the answer. 

“The ‘blinded by love’ look,” Yuuri says. Apparently it’s one of Victor’s four main expressions, so Yuuri and Yurio tell him. 

“Is it a problem?” Victor teases. “Are you finally getting tired of it after all these years?”

Yuuri chuckles, because it is absolutely absurd that he’d ever tire of Victor looking at him that way. As if he’s the only one in the world. “No. Never a problem.” He makes sure to say anyway. 

They eat in comfortable silence for a few moments, happy to just be in each other’s presence. 

“So, what did you get me this year?” Yuuri asks finally. “Am I going to come home to a rosepetal-covered bed again?”

“It’s tradition, can’t stop now,” Victor doesn’t deny it. Every Valentine’s they’ve spent together, Victor’s made sure that they’ve had candles, chocolate, and a perfectly-laid-out bed, roses and all. It’s cheesy, cliche even, but the first time he’d done it - the look on Yuuri’s face, and the tears (sorry Yuuri, he’s not going to pretend it didn’t happen, no matter how much he’s asked to) - had told him Yuuri was getting nothing less than that every year. 

“I suppose I’ll have to give you time to light the candles when we get home, won’t I?” Yuuri smiles. 

“As long as you’re not getting tired of it, I won’t stop,” Victor tells him. 

“No, not tired of it. Never. It’s something I look forward to, in fact,” Yuuri tells him. But Victor already knows it. They clasp hands over the table, fingers twined together, Yuuri’s wedding ring glinting from its spot between their fingers. 

They don’t need more than this. Valentines isn’t so much of ‘professing your love’ to them, but rather, just a confirmation of what they feel every day. Mostly, it just gives Victor another excuse to spoil his husband. 

This year, however, is a little different. Although in the beginning years Victor had showered Yuuri with gifts, ranging from stuffed animals to cars (which he’d been told was too extravagant), as they’d grown older, all they needed to be happy was a night out together, no distractions, and an evening to themselves, no lavish gifts. But right now, there’s a small box in his pocket that seems heavier than it should. 

He knows he’s already married to Yuuri, and they’re still so deeply in love there’s no point in being nervous about it, but for some reason, there are butterflies in his stomach at the thought of giving Yuuri another ring. 

It’s just a simple vow renewal. It’s been 15 years. That seems like a long enough time to have waited to ask Yuuri to marry him again. He’s surprised he held back on their tenth anniversary, to be honest. Still, he can’t wait to ask. He can’t wait to see the look on Yuuri’s face. Anything for those bright eyes and soft smile.

His other hand that isn’t holding Yuuri’s clenches around the box in his pocket. Maybe later. After a walk around the park. He leans in for a kiss, and Yuuri reciprocates without hesitation. 

“I love you,” he says, and Yuuri smiles. 

“I love you too,” is the easy reply. 

((Sorry, for some reason, I just really wanted to write an older-married-couple date? I know that wasn’t in the prompt, so I hope it was alright.)) 

Worried - Request

Requested by anon:  can you do one where Sherlock comes home from a long case which he finally solved but is beaten up and and bruised and he doesn’t understand why is reader is so worried because Sherlock + human emotions = ?

Summary: Everything from above, I suppose.

Pairing: Sherlock x reader.

Word count: 2,222

Warnings: Bloody, bruised Sherlock?

A/N: Fluffy Sherlock, I hope I got this correctly, my Sherlockness is sleeping today.


221B was only quiet when neither Sherlock nor John were around. No shooting, or shouting, no stomping across the room, no violin playing, no rants, no nothing… Just pure silence. And even when (Y/N) enjoyed said silence, she was worried. They were out on a case – a very dangerous one – and they had been out for a long while without even calling like they used to.

She tapped her fingers anxiously over the fabric of Sherlock’s chair with one hand while the other was holding a cup of tea Mrs. Hudson had prepared for her. It was now cold and she hadn’t even tried it, although it looked like it because she was trembling, causing a few spills over her jeans.

(Y/N) heard steps. Not Sherlock’s, not John’s and definitely not Mrs. Hudson’s. Limping steps. Yes, it was a limp, maybe a police officer or a client. (Y/N) set the cup of tea aside and got up from the seat. She walked confidently to the door to open it up.

She was like the secretary. She would receive the clients, attend the calls and help Sherlock during his research. Since Watson got married, Sherlock had needed someone else to help him through the process of investigation while John couldn’t, and even so, she wasn’t allowed to go on cases.

Sherlock wouldn’t admit it, but he really liked her. She was clever, efficient and she wasn’t an idiot like everyone else. She didn’t interrupt him while being on his mind palace; she didn’t get scared of the many body parts spread around the apartment and she made brilliant observations when required, if not, she would stay quiet and do her job.

It wasn’t a surprise either that she didn’t take him for an arsehole. She knew his “condition” and she was fine with it. In fact, she was almost a bit too fine. She cared for him, and she was always there; kind of like Watson, except she wasn’t a married person but rather a single one who just so happened to enjoy Sherlock’s company.

She didn’t worry to cover the tea stains from her jeans – perhaps she hadn’t even noticed them – and so she opened the door with her client smile. A bloody Sherlock appeared in front of her.

His hair was covered in blood and sweat, as well as his face and his clothes. His eyes were tired, and he was breathing through his mouth. (Y/N) noticed a few bruises over one of his cheekbones, under the eye, on his hands and she was certain there would be a lot more under his clothes.

“Thank God you’re here, I forgot my keys.” He breathed out. He was tired, and his voice sounded as raspy as if someone had tried to asphyxiate him.

“What happened to you?” She inquired in shock.

“I caught the murderer… I told them it was the grandfather but nobody believed me.” He replied nonchalantly and tried to step inside. However, he was too injured and ended up falling over (Y/N).

Thankfully, he didn’t let all of his weight on her and she was a tad bit strong so she managed to help him inside.

“A grandfather did this to you?” (Y/N) asked as she led him to his seat.

“Oh no, it was the grandmother. She’s a real ninja.” And so he flopped on his seat, “You were sitting here.”

“Is it because it’s warm or because of the tea cup at the side table?” She asked, turning her back on him to look for the first aid kit.

“That and the tea stain on your jeans.” He chuckled. (Y/N) returned with the metal box on her hands, kneeling in front of him. She set the box on the floor by her side and opened it. “You look worried.”

“Of course I’m worried.” She hissed, “You and John leave for hours, no calls, no texts… A murderer on the lose…”

“My phone’s battery died. Why were you worried?” (Y/N) gave him a dumbfounded look.

“I just told you.” Sherlock tilted his head and couldn’t help but to complain. Everything hurt him. (Y/N) sighed and proceeded to clean up his wounds as much as she could. “You’re going to have to shower.”

“I’m afraid you’re right.” Sherlock groaned and tried to get up in vain.

(Y/N) kicked the kit away so that Sherlock could walk freely and helped him up. She guided him to the bathroom and turned on the shower for him. She had to help him to take off his shirt as well, which allowed her to have a look on the multiple bruises over his ribs.

“No broken bones, though.” Sherlock commented, he obviously noticed her staring, “Grandma isn’t as good as she used to be.”

“And yet she beat you.” (Y/N) mumbled.

“But I got them in jail,” Sherlock added cockily, “guess we know who the winner is.”

Keep reading

don’t fox with my heart

Summary: In which you are the sweet-tart of Taehyung’s candy dreams (but it takes a second for you to melt).   (Fox!Taehyung, Shifter!AU)

Rating: Teen and UP

Genre: Fluffy fluff, drabble, romance, humor

Length: 3.5k

A/N: happy valentine’s day <3 :) also, friends to dating au~

(incredible aesthetic by @seoulraindrops, with permission)


“Not now, Tae.” 

He rolled his fingers on the table before sliding into the seat in front of you with a sigh. For five minutes, Taehyung tapped his fingers against the desk and stared at you, waiting patiently for the moment that you decided it was too distracting and couldn’t take it anymore. Normally you’d hold out longer to spite him, because Taehyung was a twenty-two year old college student and had been treated like he was god’s gift to human and shifter kind since you were both kids in Daegu. But you had this midterm tomorrow, and you were freaking out over how fucked you were.

Then he pulled a small string out of his pocket and dragged it slowly over the library desk, one brow quirked in challenge. 

You dropped your pencil onto your textbook and glared. “What.” 

“Nice to see you too,” he countered, tugging hard on the string so that the knot at the end flew to across the wood. You curled your hands into fists so he wouldn’t see your nails curl and sharpen into the beginning of claws. 

You huffed and folded your arms across your chest. “I really don’t have time to talk, Tae. I still have to review January’s notes and I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.”

Taehyung smiled easily, wrapping the string around his fingers and rubbing the knot between his thumb and index. He’d shoved a black beanie over his hair and wore his new glasses on his nose, a slightly orange fingerprint smudged at the corner of the lens on the right. You sniffed him curiously–Ralph Lauren cologne and Cheetos. Not the best combination. But he’s still wearing a Gucci watch, a sweater from Prada that’s probably worth more than all of your textbooks, and a thick black winter coat, so his snack fetish wouldn’t deter most of the gold-digging girls that hung around the Top of the Food Chain hoping for a chaebol to pass by. 

Keep reading

Hogwarts Houses Aesthetics
  • Gryffindor: Laughing with friends, Plaid shirts, Kicking stuff, Singing in the shower, Smiling so that your cheeks hurt, Jumping into a pool, Running through tall grass, Climbing trees, Tickling friends, Gazing into a fire, Drinking cider, Hugging a pet, Seeing old friends, Screaming, Driving nowhere, Building a sandcastle then crushing it, Snowball fights, Hot chocolate, Tapping your fingers, Waterfalls.
  • Ravenclaw: The perfect playlist, Getting full marks on a test, Stargazing, Pencils in colour order, Peeling the plastic off a DVD, The smell of books, Talking to yourself, Tearstained cheeks, Writing poetry, Freckles, Trying to reach something on the top shelf, Forehead kisses, Mirrors smashing, Sore hands after drawing, Filling a notebook, Giving advice, Swearing under your breath.
  • Hufflepuff: Tension easing from your back when you get into a hot bath, Stopping to smell the flowers, Swing sets, Bubblegum, Absentmindedly strumming a guitar, Sticking up for a friend, Giggling, Handholding, Fluffy socks, Crunchy autumn leaves, Plaited hair, Getting ice cream on your nose, Polaroid pictures, Clay-covered hands.
  • Slytherin: Empty perfume bottles, Heels on tiles, Tiptoeing, Fingerless gloves, Leather sofas, Moonlight reflecting off of a still lake, Stepping back to admire your work, Dancing for hours, Neon signs, Broken pianos, Abandoned houses, Monotone photography, Red umbrellas.

12x04 “American Nightmare”
Always MOM

This may have been my favourite moment of the episode, because you can just see how a little bit of tension dissipates from Dean’s shoulders, how this small text makes him feel at least a tiny bit better. Because she didn’t ignore him on purpose, she didn’t leave because she doesn’t want to be his mom. And even if it’s just a small text, I am glad that Dean received it. Because it is a small notification of love. And if there is one thing I want for Dean, it is that: love. 

Also: And I am totally overreacting here but the way he holds the phone when he reads the text, the way he taps his fingers to it, somehow it gives me feels… :’)

I feel like I sometimes get so lost in the angst of Stydia that I forget my absolute favorite part of them– that when they do ultimately end up together, they will be ending up with their best friend.

There’s all this build up, and angst, and him loving her and her loving him and them constantly just missing each other’s cues. But when the dust finally settles and they start to build something permanent together, it’s not going to be about that. It’s going to be so much smaller than that, and that smallness is what is ultimately going to make them stick together. In the end, it’s not going to be just about passion. It’ll be about the way they build something happy together.

They’re going to have inside jokes together. A favorite restaurant. Stiles is going to get annoyed by the way Lydia wastes all of the hot water in the shower. Lydia is going to be so annoyed by the way he constantly taps his fingers on everything that holding his hand becomes a preemptive habit instead of a way to simply stop him. They’re going to have nights where they don’t feel like going out, so they ditch their plans and lie on the couch together. They’re going to know how to fix each other’s bad days. They’re going to learn how to fight with each other and how to make up. They’re going to have nights where they stay up all night talking. They’re going to take care of each other when they’re sick. Lydia’s going to think about what Stiles likes to eat when she goes grocery shopping. Stiles is going to know what Lydia’s shampoo brand is when she sends him out to buy some.

In the end, they’re just two people who like each other. Who are equals. Who respect each other and love each other and would choose each other over and over again. The angsty thing about Stydia isn’t their love– that is the simplest thing in this world. The angsty thing about them is the circumstances of their lives, of the tragedy that is their star crossed story. And once that is over, they get to grow up together. They get to spend more of their life together than they did apart.

They’re going to be sitting on a porch one night and Lydia’s wedding ring is going to catch Stiles’ eye and he’s going to nudge her in the side and say “Hey. Remember when you didn’t love me?” And she’s going to frown a little and look up at the stars and tighten her grip on his arm and say “No. Not really.”